


Open Book

by koanju (verstehen)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, trigger warning: discussions of sexual abuse and manipulation of minors, trigger warning: victim blame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:58:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verstehen/pseuds/koanju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d never understood why the Hales were even on the list as foster families. It wasn’t that Stiles was complaining — because they were amazing with a ten-year old boy who’d just lost his last remaining family member — but they didn’t seem like the type.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The warnings for underage and rape/non-con are mostly to be extra careful about triggering even though there's not actually any rape depicted within the story. I figure warning for Kate Argent is probably a good idea. Underage applies to teenagers both in the past (again, Kate deserves all the warnings) and the present. I've also added tags for other potentially triggering things in the story so far and if more come up I'll try and remember to tag them as well. 
> 
> This work was inspired by Saucery on Halloween when she talked about "Stiles and Derek as step-brothers" as an au. And my brain immediately went, 'noooo that'd be way more interesting with Peter!' and everything went downhill from there. So all blame and complaints should probably be sent to Saucery and not me.
> 
> Title taken from the Gnarls Barkley song, which is what I was listening to when the plot for this thing popped full-formed into my head like Athena.

He’d never understood why the Hales were even on the list as foster families. It wasn’t that Stiles was complaining — because they were amazing with a ten-year old boy who’d just lost his last remaining family member — but they didn’t seem like the type.

For one, they already had three kids of their own. And extended family living there too. But they’d taken him in, Mrs. Hale — Joanna, he still had trouble with that even six years later — pulling him out of the hospital where his dad was being taken off all life support. Mr. Hale, who he'd never be able to think of as 'Alexander' -- waiting for them with soup and salad and the best grilled cheese he'd ever had. And they'd kept him. It was... amazing. Crazy. But amazing, especially since the other foster children he'd seen them take in were only temporary placements -- no more than six weeks.

He had a sneaking suspicion the reason he'd stayed when no one else did had something to do with Peter. Stiles hadn't noticed, not when he was ten, but as he got older, the looks he got from the older man were increasingly... something. Especially when Peter was giving him extra reading to do. About werewolves, of all things.

Seriously, like he hadn't figured it out within two months. Between the full moon thing, the howling, the weird family dynamics, and the way everyone was super careful about things like body lotion and perfume -- well, werewolf wasn't all that a strange conclusion. And it seemed like Peter now wanted him to know.

"How's the reading going?" Derek asked, slapping him lightly on the back of the head. He glared at his brother (and, yeah, as much as he had trouble thinking of Mrs. and Mr. Hale as his 'parents,' it was easy to think of Laura, Derek, and Willie as his siblings, because he didn't have any so they weren't a real reminder of what he'd lost. Besides, all three of them were good at treating him like an annoying younger/older brother. It was cool).

"Ow, don't hit me, Derek!" He snapped the book Peter had given him shut. "I don't even know why he bothers."

Derek shrugged and opened the fridge door, pulling out the water filter. He shook it at Stiles, who shook his head, pointing to the full glass he already had. "Because he wants you to know it and thinks you might need it."

"Derek, dude, he's got me reading Gervaise of Tilbury. In the original Latin. Nobody needs to know this, okay? Not unless they plan on being a medieval scholar and I really really don't."

"Have you thought about what you do want to do?" Derek asked, leaning against the counter.

Stiles shrugged. "I dunno; I'm thinking Peter kind of wants me to go into law and work at his firm."

Derek snorted. "You do like arguing."

He flipped Derek off and opened the book back up. "I do," he said and then decided to take the plunge. "But I doubt I'll be arguing werewolf mythology in any court anytime soon. Not even for you guys."

He felt, more than heard, Derek's reaction as he stilled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm not stupid, you're not as stealthy with someone who shared a room with you for three years as maybe you should be, and seriously, the last six months all Peter wants to talk about is werewolves and wolves and pack dynamics. Even if I hadn't figured it out like six years ago, he probably would have tipped me off by now."

"You need to talk to mom," Derek said quietly.

"Yeah, I figured. She's totally the alpha and I'm betting Peter wasn't supposed to be doing... whatever he's doing."

"Just." Stiles listened as Derek slammed the door to the fridge closed. "Just talk to mom. Tonight, when she gets home. And don't be alone with Peter. Or tell him you know already."

Stiles looked over his shoulder at his older brother, surprised. "Um. Okay?"

"Just do it!" Derek snapped and Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"Whatever, jerk," he muttered and went back to his reading. Peter would be ready to quiz him after dinner. "Don't forget it's your turn to cook and no pizza this time, okay? That's totally cheating."

***

Later, Stiles met Mrs. Hale at the door when she arrived home, grabbed her briefcase and tucked it away in the coat closet where she liked to leave it when she was done with any work she brought home. She looked a little surprised, her dark eyebrows going up, and asked, “Stiles?”

“Um, Derek says I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, _Derek_ says?” She sounded _just_ like Peter when she got snarky.

“Yeah, about, uh. You guys. Your family. And what you do.”

She frowned and Stiles had the sense she wasn’t really frowning _at_ him but more at the situation. Or Derek. Or things that were not Stiles. “Where are the others?”

“Willie went over to Bob’s house but he’ll be back for dinner, I think Laura mentioned something about a date – don’t quote me on that –“And he still didn’t get why Mrs. Hale got weird about Laura’s dates when Laura was _twenty-four years old_ and in freaking graduate school. He figured it was a werewolf thing and not an ‘girls must be protected more than boys’ thing, given that Mrs. Hale was totally the one in charge. “And Derek went out to get stuff for dinner. I think he wants to make beef stew. I told him no pizza this time; it’s –“

“Cheating,” Mrs. Hale finished with him, nodding. “Okay, let’s go into the living room. Let me change and I’ll be there in a minute, Stiles.” She reached over and squeezed his shoulder before heading to the stairs.

Stiles took a deep breath and detoured to the kitchen. He’d made some tea, the chai she liked, hopefully to put her in a good mood for this conversation. After the way Derek had flown off the handle, he figured the more soothing things he could give her, the better off he might be. It wasn’t that he was _scared_ , not exactly. It was just – if this went badly, he could totally be out of his home. And that’s what this was. Stiles couldn’t do it again; he couldn’t lose a family the second time. He swallowed the wave of pain that accompanied the thought and carried Mrs. Hale’s tea and his own water glass into the living room, dropping both on top of the Portal coasters Laura had got him for his birthday a few months ago.

Mrs. Hale, changed into sweatpants and a SFSU t-shirt and still managing to look amazing, dropped down next to him and grinned. “You made me tea.” She slid an arm across his shoulders and pulled him close in a casual hug. “You must really be worried about this.”

“Hey! I could make tea without being –“

“You never have before,” she pointed out and he slumped.

Stiles held up his hand and put his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Okay, maybe I am. A little. But it’s not every day I have to talk to an alpha werewolf about _being_ a werewolf in a family of werewolves.” Well, he hadn’t quite wanted to blurt it out like _that_ but as Peter always said when he spoke before thinking, ‘sometimes out is better than in.’

“Did Derek tell you?” She sounded really calm. Too calm for the conversation. But she was sipping the tea, her eyes just barely open. “You make this perfectly, Stiles.”

“Peter showed me.” He stopped and frowned. “Not the werewolf thing, the tea. And no, Derek didn’t tell me. But, uh, and don’t blame him, but it’s kind of his fault?” He felt his face start to heat up. “You know he was _sixteen_ when I first started living here and rooming with him, right? And sixteen-year-olds like to. Uh.” He trailed off because he really didn’t want to have the sex talk with her again. It was bad enough at twelve; Stiles didn’t want to do it again at sixteen when he was basically implying that sixteen-year olds masturbate. “I didn’t sleep much those first few months and he wasn’t as careful about waiting until I was asleep and, he’d uh, change when he got excited. I sort of figured it out from there.” He stared determinedly at his lap and hoped he wasn’t fire engine red. “Plus, Peter’s been hinting recently, even if I hadn’t figured it out years ago. I mentioned it to Derek tonight and he said I should talk to you.”

“Stiles, look at me.” _Oh my god it’s the mom voice, I’m screwed_ , he thought, but looked up at her. She was smiling at him. “You’re a smart kid, I should have known you’d figure it out before we were ready to tell you. I was going to wait until you were eighteen. Peter apparently jumped the gun.”

“Why did you want to wait? Not tell me?” He asked slowly. Stiles wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. Because it was the big family secret and, for all that they made him feel welcome and at home and loved and as much as _Stiles_ thought of the Hales as family, maybe they didn’t think of him the same way.

“I thought you’d be too young to understand when you first got here. As you got older, too much of a teenager to handle the responsibility – especially if you wanted to be turned,” she said and her smile grew as he shook his head no. “But mostly we didn’t tell you because of,” and now her expression sobered, the laugh lines around her mouth smoothing out completely. “Your father and his death.”

“Dad? What’s he got to do with it? Did he know about werewolves? And his death? He was shot, it’s not like a werewolf killed him!” Stiles pulled back, out from under her arm, and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Not a werewolf, no,” Mrs. Hale told him softly. “But a werewolf _hunter_.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! He was responding to reports of a break-in –“He stopped as several pieces of the mystery finally slotted together. “A break-in at the law firm Peter used to work at.”

She nodded and pulled him back in, hugging him tightly. “The hunter shot Peter. Your father arrived just as soon as she did and he got in the way. She shot him next. Peter tried to give as much first aid as he could before your father’s back-up got there. But he was dying, the bullet was killing him and he couldn’t afford to let the police see him there, not when he was hurt like that. Alex, Peter and I went back to try and catch her trail that night but she’d already left town and we got the call about you.” Mrs. Hale kissed the top of his forehead and he sucked in a breath, not sure what he felt about all this. Was that why he’d stayed? _Guilt_?

“Peter saw who did it.” He swallowed, hard. “What did she look like?”

For the first time since the whole conversation began, Mrs. Hale hesitated before answering. “She was blonde, and young, maybe in her twenties. She wore jeans and boots and had a pendant Peter remembered clearly of a wolf.”

“That sounds –“ He bit his lip to stop himself from blurting out who that description reminded him of. The woman Derek had been dating on the sly when he’d first been taken in by the Hales. He even remembered her name – which given how many times he’d heard Derek whisper it as he came those first few weeks probably wasn’t a surprise. _Kate_.

Derek had shown him a photo on his cell he’d taken when Kate wasn’t paying attention and sworn Stiles to secrecy. Saying ‘I promise’ had actually been his first words in the Hale house. Derek had hugged him for it.

But he remembered the pendant and the way it glinted in the picture. 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Thanks for telling me, Joanna. Thanks for taking me in. I know I’m not an easy kid but you kept me and took care of me. I don’t think you’ve got anything to feel guilty about.” He pulled away and wiped his face, a little annoyed at himself at finding it wet.

“You’re amazing, Stiles, and you’re family,” she told him, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. “That’s why you stayed. Because we loved you.”

He nodded and gave her a smile. It probably wasn’t his best effort but he could tell Mrs. Hale appreciated it anyway. “I’m going to head up to my room. I still have a little calculus to finish.”

It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t what he was going to do. Stiles was going to sit down and write out a list of questions for both Derek and Peter.

And then he was going to track down the bitch that killed his father and return the favor.

***

Stiles clutched the piece of paper in hand as he knocked on Peter’s door. Dinner had, thankfully, been a normal affair. Mrs. Hale had evidently decided not to make a big announcement about Stiles officially being in on the big furry skeleton in the Hale family closet. So he was mostly left in peace as he ate, barring Derek’s grumpy frowning and Peter’s smile, and used the time while he half-listened to Laura complain about her cohort and their idiocy in her statistics class to decide whether to confront Derek or Peter first.

Derek who’d had a _relationship_ with the bitch who’d killed his dad. Peter who’d been there and hadn’t helped his dad enough while he was _dying_.

Derek, his older brother, who’d hugged him when Lydia revealed she’d only invited Stiles to her 13th birthday party hoping that Derek might come too. Derek, who’d spent hours sitting with Stiles watching ridiculous television he didn’t even like just because Stiles wanted to. Derek who’d kissed away tears and even bought Stiles a stupid little moon nightlight when he’d had nightmares every time he’d try to sleep for the first eight months he’d been with the Hales.

Or Peter who’d always treated him like an adult and never patronized him, not even about his father’s death. Peter, who challenged Stiles, gave him extra work and expected him to perform perfectly. Peter who taught him things and then would turn around and ask Stiles to help him with his own work using the very things Peter had just taught him. Peter who praised him and was proud of him and obviously had plans for Stiles’s future – a future with Peter in it.

Stiles had picked Peter; he figured he’d be less likely to lose his temper with the older man.

“Come in Stiles,” Peter called through the door. When he opened it and stepped in, Peter was sitting on his bed with his back to against the wooden headboard. There was a yellow legal pad in his lap and Peter was wearing a pair of faded blue-stripped cotton pajama bottoms and no shirt. With his free hand, Peter patted the bed next to him as he scribbled notes. “Sit down, I’ll quiz you in just a minute.”

Stiles briefly glanced at the desk chair, which would put him out of Peter’s reach if this went badly, and decided to opt for the bed anyway. Peter was always calmed by touch. Actually, all the Hales were; it had to be a werewolf thing. “I don’t want to be quizzed.” Stiles realized he had crumpled the paper in his hand and unfolded it, smoothing it out against his leg and glancing at the questions before looking back at Peter. “I want to talk about the werewolf hunter who killed my dad.”

The sound of pen scratching on paper ended and Peter looked at him, meeting Stiles’s eyes. Only instead of their normal blue, Peter’s eyes were _glowing_ blue. “You talked to Joanna.”

“You weren’t very subtle with the hints even if I hadn’t figured it out years ago. Tell me about that night. _Tell me what happened_.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose at Stiles’s command and he smiled, just a little turn-up of his lips. “If you talked to Joanna, then you already know what happened.”

Stiles gave Peter his best ‘stop fucking with me’ look, the one he’d learned from imitating Derek who was imitating Laura who was really imitating Mrs. Hale. “I know you, Peter. Whatever you told her wasn’t the whole story.”

The smile on Peter’s face grew. “You really do know me well. How do you know I’ll tell you the truth?”

“Because you want something from me,” he answered instantly. “And you know me pretty well too, right? You know telling me is the best way to get me on your side for whatever you really want.” He reached over and snagged the legal pad from Peter’s lap and stared down at it. He seemed to be making notes about a divorce case. Stiles snorted and tossed it aside, off the bed and toward the direction of the desk.

“Oh I do love your fantastic mind,” Peter told him, now actually _grinning_. Stiles felt his cheeks heat up both at the fond expression on Peter’s face and his words and hoped he was just _feeling_ the blush, not _actually_ blushing. “You’re right; I didn’t tell my sister everything. But I’ll tell you exactly what happened.” He slumped down to the side so he was leaning against Stiles. “I was staying late to work on a settlement for a case when I heard someone picking the lock.”

“I knew you all had freaky senses!” Stiles muttered and then _really_ blushed as he realized there probably wasn’t a whole lot of privacy going on in the house.

Peter laughed and nudged him with his shoulder. “We do but for the most part we learn to tune it out. Too much unnecessary input for our day-to-day lives.”

“So, like, _all_ senses? Even touch?”

“You didn’t go into this with Joanna?”

Stiles shook his head and sighed, leaning against Peter himself. It was like they were holding each other up. “No, we really didn’t get into the werewolf thing. Other than her basically asking if I wanted to be one. It was mostly more about my dad.” He shrugged. “Maybe she thought you or Derek’d take care of it? I did tell her you’d been hinting. And that it was Derek that kinda gave it away years ago.” He _so_ wasn’t going to repeat how because admitting he’d listened to Derek masturbate for years until they’d remodeled the house three years ago and added two bedrooms once was more than enough for a day.

Peter tugged on the sleeve of Stiles’s sweatshirt. “Are you cold?”

He rolled his eyes. “Way to change the subject and no, not with my personal heater right here.” He gestured to Peter’s shirtless chest. If there was anything to be jealous of about being a werewolf it totally had to be how damn hot they all ran. Stiles had to wear like two layers to feel warm _even in summer_. That and he didn’t think he’d ever seen one of the Hales get sick. “So you were staying late?” he prompted.

“What did you tell Joanna?” Peter asked, ignoring Stiles’s question.

“About what?”

Now Peter was the one to roll his eyes and he made the expression he always got when he thought Stiles was being a little slow. “About being a werewolf.”

“I said no.”

Peter’s grip on his sweatshirt tightened briefly. “I’ll have to work to change your mind then; you’d be an excellent wolf.”

Stiles frowned at him and poked Peter’s side, right in his ticklish spot. “Don’t care, get on with the story.”

Peter flinched away from his finger, giggling (which would never not be weird), and nodded. “No more tickling.” He flicked his fingers against Stiles’s cheek. “I was staying late and heard the lock being picked. I assumed it was just a normal robbery or someone coming to destroy evidence or paperwork and called the police. Then I went to investigate.”

Stiles made a face at that. “Peter, that’s what gets people killed. You’re supposed to leave that sort of thing to the professionals.”

That got him a laugh. “Most of the professionals don’t have werewolf healing. We can heal from anything but being cut in half or aconite poisoning reaching our heart.”

“Aconite.” He frowned. “Wait, that’s wolfsbane, isn’t it?” _Ha, Harry Potter does teach people useful things_ , he thought.

Peter nodded but didn’t divert from his story. “I went out in the hallway and saw the woman shutting the office door behind her. She was carrying a handgun and grinning. She was enjoying the hunt and kill. When she noticed me, she shot me. I moved fast enough that she got me in the shoulder rather than in the chest. Unfortunately, the bullets were laced with aconite. That combined with the pain of the bullet distracted me enough that I didn’t notice your father coming in behind her until she turned around and shot him, twice.”

“Chest and head,” Stiles said quietly. He’d insisted on going to see his father in the hospital even when Mrs. McCall had tried to keep him out. “But aconite poisons humans too.” He frowned and chewed on his lip, thinking. “That’s why they couldn’t save them, at the hospital. They didn’t know about the poisoning.” He sniffed and reached up to wipe his eyes. Unlike earlier with Mrs. Hale, he wasn’t embarrassed about tearing up in front of Peter. “And then with his living will, they weren’t trying very hard anyway.”

“With me down and as soon as the woman realized she’d shot a police officer, she fled. I made my way to your father and dug the bullet out of his chest.” Stiles sucked in a shocked breath at that. “I needed the remaining aconite from the bullet to cure my own poisoning,” he explained.

“You hurt my dad,” he whispered, licking his lips and staring at the man he’d come to trust and love.

“Yes, I did.”

Stiles didn’t know what to do, what to say, to that. If he should, if Peter might be equally responsible for his dad’s death. Actively responsible, not just in a ‘wrong-place-wrong-time’ way.

“Stiles?” Peter’s voice was soft, comforting, as he leaned into Stiles’s space. There wasn’t a single ounce of regret on his face.

He swallowed back all the questions and nodded. “Okay. Okay.” He wiped his hands on his sweatpants. “I know her name. Her first name, anyway. I’m going to find her.” He met Peter’s glowing blue eyes. “You’re helping me.”

Peter smiled, a slow, wicked smile, and leaned forward even more to press a kiss to Stiles’s cheek, just barely to the left of his lips. “I always intended to do that, Stiles.”

***

Stiles left Peter’s room after that, having gotten as much information as he thought he could handle. He knew Peter; the man hadn’t been lying. Not about what he’d done. He also suspected that Peter had probably told Mrs. Hale he’d got a bullet, just that, no explanation of how and where it had come from, and let Mrs. Hale assume it came from a stray shot or the gun itself. It was very… _Peter_.

But the whole conversation and Peter’s reaction to it had unsettled him enough he decided to put off his plans to talk to Derek. He needed time to think and process and most importantly to plan.

Peter had taught him the importance of a plan when it came to getting what you wanted and right now all he wanted was the people responsible for making him an orphan dead. And that meant figuring out if he wanted to include Peter in that list. Not that it mattered, at the moment, because even if he did add Peter’s name to the list, Stiles wasn’t going to deal with him until Kate was dead.

So he’d headed back to his room and bedded down for a night of restless sleep, picturing Peter leaning down over his father’s prone body while he gave the same smile he gave to Stiles when he’d kissed his cheek.

“Stiles, are you listening to me?” Scott asked, breaking Stiles out of his reverie of the night before.

“Of course I am. You’re talking about how Jackson’s a douche?” He tried to keep the question out of his voice and from Scott’s annoyed bitchface, he’d failed hardcore.

“No, dude, I’m talking about the new girl.” He pointed over across the cafeteria and when Stiles looked there was indeed a New Girl. Sitting next to Lydia, already falling in with the popular crowd. Good for her.

“Yeah, so?”

“She’s really pretty, don’t you think?”

Stiles turned back around and took in the girl’s dress and curly brown hair before shrugging. “I guess. If you like her, you should go talk to her, buddy.” He grinned, straightening at the thought that at least one of them might graduate high school with an actual relationship.

“I did, a little. She was in my class and asked for a pencil. Her name’s Allison.”

Stiles pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “So go ask for the pencil back?”

Scott shook his head. “No way, dude. I already told her to keep it.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at his friend. “Well, whatever excuse you use, man up. If I could do it with Lydia –“

“And look how well _that_ turned out,” Scott pointed out dryly.

“If I could do it you can too,” he continued through gritted teeth. He was seriously over Lydia, after the birthday party debacle, but that didn’t mean the memory didn’t sting.

Scott nodded at him and leaned forward. “You okay, dude? You’ve been out of it all day.”

He toyed with the food on his tray, considering how to answer that. It wasn’t like he could tell Scott about _werewolves_. “I just. I had a dream last night about my dad.”

Scott’s face dropped and he leaned over the table to punch Stiles lightly in the arm. “I’m sorry, dude.”

“Yeah, me too.” He let the plastic fork drop onto the tray and pushed the food away. “Sorry I’ve been out of it while you’re _obviously_ having a romantic crisis, dude.” He smiled at his best friend and Scott laughed.

“No problem,” he said easily and Stiles watched his eyes slide back away toward the new girl.

“I’m pretty much done,” Stiles told him. “I think I’ll head to the library before class. Use the computers.”

Scott wrinkled his nose. “Those things are ancient. And they have Net Nanny.”

“Yeah, but they’re also not shared with any of the Hales,” he pointed out.

“True,” Scott agreed. “At least until next year when Willie’s a freshman.”

“And we’ll be awesome awesome juniors and Willie totally hero worships you anyway,” he said, grinning as he stood up. “See you in chemistry, dude.”

He waved at his friend and made his way out of the cafeteria, making sure to leave his tray behind for Scott to deal with. He headed for the library intending to use the computers to maybe dig up some more information on this Kate woman. Like her last name. It’d be awesome not to have to go round two with Derek and learn more crap about his family.

But pretty much everything he tried, even the newspaper archives from six years ago, was a bust. So he pulled out his phone and fiddled with it, going through two different drafts of the message before he sent to Derek: _are you working this afternoon? I need to talk to you about something important._

He got a response five minutes later: _no, I’ll pick you up after practice. Willie’ll get a ride home with Bob’s mom_. And then, thirty seconds later: _is this about Peter?_

He chewed on his lip, looked at the time, and started packing up his stuff for his next class rather than replying.

The rest of the day dragged and he barely paid attention, mostly relying on Scott to take notes in their shared classes. Besides, what he missed today he could probably pick up later.

Lacrosse practice was even worse because now he had to sit on the bench and wonder how much easier it’d be if he was a werewolf. And then be disgusted with himself because that was a stupid ass reason to turn into something that was apparently hunted pretty regularly.

He was almost grateful when he caught a glimpse of Derek waiting by the edge of the field as practice wound down. He decided to forgo the shower and just change – Derek had definitely earned living with Stiles’s b.o. for making him have to go through this conversation – and waved his goodbye to Scott as he hustled out to meet Derek in the parking lot.

He was driving the Camaro. “How’d you get Laura to loan you this?”

He shrugged. “She traded me for the week. I guess she’s helping a friend move so she wanted the SUV for the space.”

“Can I drive?” he asked eagerly, just in case. Laura never let him but this wasn’t Laura.

Derek simply laughed at the question and slid into the driver’s seat. “You never texted me back.”

Stiles shrugged at him and leaned his head against the passenger window. “You want to stop for food on the way?”

“I know you went to Peter’s room last night.” Derek’s voice was low and hard. “Didn’t I tell you not to be alone with him?”

“Seriously, Derek? Oh my god, _really_?” He glared only to see Derek glaring right back, his jaw clenched. “Yes, I went to talk to him _after I talked to your mom,_ okay? Like you told me. She’s totally clued in that I’m clued in. And then I went to talk to Peter and now I’m talking to you.” He hardened his face as much as possible but Derek had already looked back at the road. “When did you realize Kate killed my dad?”

The car speeding up abruptly was the only sign his words had penetrated Derek’s mask. “What?”

“Kate. The girl you were so in love with that you jerked off, like, twice a night to. The one you told me about. The blonde with the pendant of a wolf you showed me a picture of. The one with the same pendant Peter saw when she shot him and my dad that night.”

Finally, Derek slowed the car down just before Stiles was ready to grab the ‘oh shit’ handle and pulled over to the side of the road.

Stiles swallowed and looked at his older brother. “I remember you jerking off to her for at least month after. Then you stopped. So when did you figure it out?” He took a deep breath and waited for the answer, hoping it was the same day he’d stopped.

But he had a sinking feeling he wasn’t just that lucky. Not after what Peter had done.

“It took me about a week to really believe it,” Derek confessed in a near whisper. He was staring out the driver’s side window in an obvious attempt to not look at Stiles.

“A week. It – Why didn’t you ever tell me? You _knew_ that I wanted to find who did it!” he accused, his voice rising. “I told you that was basically my only ambition! You’re the only one I told, Derek! I trusted you and you knew all this time! You fucked the bitch that killed my dad and then had the balls to hug me and tell me it was going to be all right!” He was shouting, panting even, when he was done.

But at least it made Derek look at him, his expression bleak. Stiles realized that was _guilt_ on his face; it was the same expression he had on his face when Mrs. Hale called him out on something. Guilt and… fear. Derek was afraid – _of Stiles_. “You never told anyone about her.”

“I still haven’t,” he said, reining in his temper and skirting the truth. He’d told Peter he knew Kate’s name but hadn’t said how. “Don’t try and bullshit me, Derek.”

“I didn’t.” He heard the squeak of leather as Derek squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Not at first. When I told you it would be okay, the first time, I didn’t know. I didn’t know your dad’s death even had anything to do with us. I didn’t know until three weeks later when Mom and Dad told Laura and me. She wanted to warn us to be extra careful and to watch out for you and Willie. She wasn’t even going to tell me but –“ He broke off, still looking out the driver’s window. “But I was the one who was waking up to help you with your nightmares every night. She thought knowing it might help me help you.”

“Stop trying to make excuses and answer the damn question,” he got out through gritted teeth. He’d expected better from Derek than this self-serving shit.

“After I talked to Mom and Dad, I asked Uncle Peter about it and he told me about the woman he’d seen. I didn’t think, I couldn’t believe it, even though it sounded like Kate.” Now Derek finally looked at him and his face was blank.

“You don’t even really believe it now, do you?” he accused, glaring at his brother.

“I do. I had… time to think about what she was doing. How she was doing it. When I thought about the questions she asked, the way she didn’t ever want to be in public.” He stopped and blinked a few times. Stiles watched the jump of his pulse in his neck. “She was using me to get information about us. I told her about Uncle Peter the most because I used to spend afternoons at his office with Willie when I was a kid so that’s probably she went after him first.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone? Your mom and dad? The police? Peter? _Me_?” He had trouble getting the words out and his throat felt like there was something jagged cutting him. Why did this have to be so hard? Why did it have to hurt so much?

“I.” Derek swallowed and leaned over so he could drop his hands on Stiles’s shoulders, his thumbs rubbing up and down along his collarbone. “I didn’t know how. I was – embarrassed. Afraid what might happen. And I was in love with her, Stiles. That didn’t go away instantly. Even when I knew who she was and what she’d done.”

Stiles brought his hands up between Derek’s arms and pushed outward, breaking Derek’s grip on him. At Derek’s wounded look Stiles snorted. His brother was fucking lucky Stiles hadn’t used some of the self-defense moves his dad had taught him for a frontal defense – like punching Derek in his goddamn throat. “Don’t touch me right now, Derek. Just. Don’t. What was her name? Her _full name_.”

“Kate Argent. I don’t know if it’s a false name or not.”

Stiles – probably with Peter’s help – could figure that out pretty quickly. Stiles shut his eyes and concentrated on keeping his breathing calm and even. “Are you sorry for what you did?” He hadn’t meant to ask that; Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, especially since Derek had just said he loved Kate. 

“I didn’t know you then, Stiles. I didn’t – I’m sorry. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done and when my parents brought you home and you were –“ Derek’s voice broke and Stiles opened his eyes but didn’t look at his brother. “Stiles, I love you.”

“I don’t care,” he whispered, knowing it might make Derek hurt and bleed the way it felt like Stiles was. “I don’t care, Derek. So, you want to show me you’re sorry? Here’s what we do. You’re going to tell your parents. And if they agree, then we’re going to tell the police.”

What the Hales didn’t know was that Stiles still had access to the police databases. No one had bothered to remove his father’s administrator access and password after his death; they’d just passed it on to Deputy Sherriff Collins while he filled in until the next election (where he won by a landslide) and his dad had never been all that great about password security when he’d been alive. Stiles had been abusing his access for years to follow his dad’s case file. If they went to the police with what Derek knew, it could speed up his hunt for Kate by letting them do half the work for him.

“I’m sorry,” Derek repeated.

“Start the car. Now.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against the seat, listening to the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

“Stiles –“

“Derek, start the car. Unless you want to talk more about how your dick got my dad killed,” he cut Derek off harshly and even enjoyed the way the silence sank throughout the car until Derek turned the key.

Stiles didn’t say another word the entire ride home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the rest of the Hale family living in the house, Derek fesses up to his parents, Stiles is left with a few burning questions that Derek can’t answer, and Peter makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek talks about his time with Kate in this section, so warnings for underage and sexual manipulation (though no details at all, okay? He talks about it in really general terms).

He mostly wanted to skip dinner, head up to his room and try and lick his wounds, figure out how to handle both Derek and Peter after the betrayals they’d both admitted to. But given his ultimatum to Derek, Stiles knew that wasn’t going to happen. Especially not if they caught Mrs. and Mr. Hale for their little chat before dinner.

Derek had a downcast expression the entire way home and he practically threw himself out of the car to get away from Stiles. He almost wished Derek’s actions didn’t make him feel as good as it did. At least it was something _real_ , something _visible_ , to show Derek was sorry. It was more than Peter had given him, anyway.

Stiles didn’t want to be angry with the people he cared about. He didn’t want to be thinking about the different ways he could make Peter and Derek hurt the way he was.

He didn’t want to be so goddamn angry. After all, Bruce Banner had never been his favorite character and even Batman didn’t run on anger.

So he made his way out of the car and toward the kitchen. It was technically Laura’s turn to make dinner tonight but he knew she wouldn’t care if he pre-emptively swapped. Derek avoided the kitchen like the plague because he hated cooking and making sure there was a decent meal for the entire family would keep him from thinking about Peter and the extra reading he still hadn’t finished.

He went through the motions, deciding on grilled chicken, potatoes and green beans, his attention mostly on the upcoming talk with Mrs. and Mr. Hale. Stiles hadn’t been lying when he told Derek that he never told anyone about his ambition to solve his father’s murder (though he suspected Peter had already guessed). Derek was the only one he trusted with that and now he was wondering if it was a mistake. Maybe Mrs. and Mr. Hale could help, would understand what he had to do now. They were werewolves and were apparently used to being hunted. Maybe they’d lost someone in the past and could understand.

Or maybe he was fooling himself. Stiles sighed over the stove. “What’s wrong?”

He jumped at the voice and turned around to give his little brother a quick smile. “Nothing, buddy.” Willie was secretly his favorite Hale. He was as smart as Peter, outgoing, and a total nerd. The only person Stiles knew who was even half as nerdy as Willie was Scott. Plus with his big ears and baby face, he was pretty adorable.

“You’re lying,” Willie told him and dropped to sit at the kitchen table.

“Is that a werewolf thing?” Stiles asked him, squinting at the kid.

“Mom told me you knew now.” Willie grinned up at him. “Which is _so_ awesome! I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for years because I knew you’d think it was cool!”

Stiles laughed, his mood immediately rising. This was why he loved Willie; you just couldn’t be sad around the kid. “I do, buddy. It’s pretty awesome. Anyway, how’d you know I was lying?”

“Oh, that wasn’t a werewolf thing. I could, if I wanted to, listen to your heart.” He made a face. “But that’s annoying. You’ve just got a, whatchamacallit, the poker thing?”

“A tell?” he supplied and frowned. “No way do I have a tell.”

“You totally do, Stiles!” Willie crowed, grinning. “Everybody knows it too.”

He groaned and turned back to the chicken. “Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

“Nope!”

“Brat.”

Willie laughed and Stiles listened to the sound of him kicking his feet against the wooden chair legs. “What’s wrong, Stiles? Is there anything I can do?”

He thought about it briefly, trying different explanations on for size. Since Mrs. and Mr. Hale only told Derek and Laura about his dad and Kate, he figured they probably wouldn’t like it if he spilled the beans to Willie. Even if it was _his_ dad and _his_ story to tell. Willie was their kid so he guessed he didn’t have a right to say how they raised him. “I kind of had a big fight with Derek on the way home.”

“Oh. Derek’s a butt. What’d he do wrong now?” Willie’s words startled a laugh out of Stiles and he moved around from the stove so he could ruffle the kid’s fluffy dark hair. “Hey! Now you’re being a butt!”

Stiles laughed again and shook his head. “Just showing my affection the way Derek taught me.” It was both sad and true. “Anyway, he did… something stupid a long time ago that hurt me. Only I didn’t know it was Derek that did it until now.”

“That’s really vague,” Willie pointed out and Stiles nodded.

“Yeah, you don’t really need the details, buddy.”

“ _Stiles_!” He sounded offended. “I’m not a kid anymore; I can handle it!”

“I know.” He looked over at Willie and tried to smile. From the kid’s expression it wasn’t coming out very well. “I know. You’re great. But what he did is between him and me, okay? That’s all. For now, anyway. I told him we’re talking to your parents tonight about it.”

Willie tilted his head to the left a little. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” He turned the chicken and checked the potatoes in the oven.

“Call them ‘your parents.’ Mom and dad are your mom and dad now too.”

He wished he could make a face at the question but he had a feeling Willie would take it badly. How did you explain something like this to a kid? “Because. It feels disrespectful to my parents. Your – Joanna and Alex are great. I love them. But they’re not my mom and dad, not really. My parents were the Stilinskis. I’m not trying to hurt anybody, Willie; it’s just a way of remembering my mom and dad.”

Willie stared hard at him, looking oddly like Laura as he did it, before he nodded. “I listened to your heart that time,” he confessed. “I’m glad you’re my brother. Derek’s a butt,” he repeated. “And you’re always awesome.”

He grinned at Willie. “You’re the rightest kid in the whole righteous universe, buddy. I _am_ always awesome.”

“You’ll forgive him though, eventually, right?”

And there was the other question he’d sort of been dreading from Willie. Because the kid was great but he hated when people fought. “He’s family,” Stiles said, figuring it was the best he could do to sum up the situation with Derek and Peter and how he felt about it. From the satisfied expression on Willie’s face, he supposed it was good enough.

They sat in silence, the only sounds in the kitchen were Willie humming as he worked on homework, and the occasional request for help. It was relaxing and familiar; they’d done this a lot over the last six years and it never failed to make him happy, even in the early years when all he’d felt was lost and alone and in pain.

“Smells good,” Peter’s voice came from the kitchen doorway. “But I thought it was Laura’s turn today.”

“I wanted to do it,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Peter. He was still wearing his suit and leather jacket, leaning against the doorjamb. “It’s relaxing.”

“You also do it when you’re trying to butter someone up,” Peter pointed out.

“I told you there’s a tell,” Willie added and grinned up at Stiles.

He waved them both off. “I just needed to think, that’s all.”

“Stiles had a fight with Derek,” Willie told Peter. “He wouldn’t tell me about what, though.”

“ _Did he_?” Peter’s voice was warm and interested and when Stiles met his eyes, he nodded. “And is the fight settled?”

“Not yet,” Stiles answered, before Willie could.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Peter reassured Willie and Stiles rolled his eyes at his ridiculous family. “Tutoring tonight after dinner?”

“Nope,” Stiles answered, popping his “p” as he dropped the green beans in a pot. “I need to talk to Joanna and Alex tonight, with Derek.” Because there was no way he was not going to be there to make sure Derek told his parents the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Though, if he wasn’t completely emotionally exhausted after, it might be worth it to seek Peter out and get a little Werewolf 101. He probably could bribe the older man with something in exchange; maybe a day at the office helping out. He could just ask Mrs. Hale but he doubted she’d answer everything, especially since she’d told him she was planning on waiting to expose the family secret. And there were some questions he’d probably be too embarrassed to ask her; things like ‘was Derek wolfing out when he jerked off normal or just a teenager thing?’ And it wasn’t that it was easier to ask embarrassing stuff like that with Peter, it was more just that Peter was used to Stiles asking random and weird things by now so it didn’t faze him the way it still did the rest of the Hales (on the rare occasion Stiles bothered to ask them stuff anymore).

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up for dinner, Willie?” Peter prompted, stepping into the kitchen fully and moving over to the stove to look over Stiles’s shoulder.

“Sure, Uncle Peter.” He left his books on the table and stood up. “I’m glad you’re cooking tonight, Stiles. Laura’s late again and I don’t want to wait on dinner.”

“It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it, right?” He angled his body around Peter’s so he could smile at Willie who laughed and left the room.

As soon as Willie was gone, he felt a hand on the small of his back. “So it was a bad fight?” Peter’s voice was quiet in his ear. Stiles shrugged, paying more attention to the chicken and beans than either required. Peter’s thumb rubbed up and down along his spine. “Tell me.”

“Nope. That’s between me and Derek… for now, anyway. After he talks to his parents I’ll tell you.” His grip tightened on the fork he was poking the beans with. “I’m going to need your help with something anyway.”

He felt, more than saw, Peter’s smile. “Always.” With a light pat, Peter stepped away. “I’m going to go change. You know where to find me when you’re ready.”

Before he could go too far, Stiles reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Why are you doing this? Is it because of what you did to my dad?”

Peter cocked his head to the side, toward the door. “Later. It’ll be a secret for a secret.” He easily broke Stiles’s grip and left him alone in the kitchen just before Stiles heard the front door open and heavy steps heading down the hallway. 

“Stiles, why are you cooking? It’s my turn!” He waved weakly behind him, not bothering to look at Laura.

“You were late and I was bored.”

“You finished your homework that quickly?” She sounded skeptical.

“I finished some of it in class today. I didn’t have much.” It was probably a sad commentary on his life how much of that sentence was true.

“Well, go back and finish it up,” she said, stepping up next him and plucking the fork out of his hands. “I’ll finish up in here.”

“And take credit for all the work when it’s almost done?” He raised his eyebrows at her and she laughed, flicking his cheek with her fingers.

“No, just go do your homework. Your education is important.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s the gateway to a good job and economic security,” he quoted her and stepped back from the stove. Cooking had served its purpose anyway: getting him away from Derek long enough to calm down. “You’re going to make the world’s most annoying public school principal, Laura.”

“Probably,” she agreed easily. “But I’ll do it the right way –“

“By getting teaching experience first,” they finished together, grinning easily at each other. “I’m going,” he told her, feeling better already.

Of course, he still had to get through the dinner and – if Derek discovered his balls – the talk with Mrs. and Mr. Hale. And if he didn’t… well, there was Peter. Derek could wait until Stiles was done with Kate.

His chance came after dinner when Mrs. Hale led the four of them down into the basement rec room. He’d never really spent a lot of time down in the basement, outside of the rec room, but he knew all the adults had rooms and offices down here. Or at least they said they did; he’d never really questioned it before but given the werewolf thing, maybe the offices were something different. Mrs. Hale waited until everyone was settled – the Hale parents comfortable on the couch, Mr. Hale’s arm over Mrs. Hale’s shoulder, Derek slouched uncomfortably in the papas an, and Stiles himself dropping down into the recliner next to the couch. “Derek tells me you two have something you want to talk about?” Mr. Hale asked, stretching his legs out in front of him, a curious expression on his bearded face.

Derek slouched even further, like he was trying to make himself smaller, before he sighed. “It’s about Stiles’s dad.” He reached up and scrubbed his face once, glancing over at Stiles. His ‘are you sure?’ expression was probably obvious to everyone in the room.

“Tell them what you told me,” Stiles ordered him, keeping his voice even as he could. But, hey, werewolves. Even the calm he’d gained with Willie and Peter and Laura, and through the family dinner filled with teasing and laughter probably couldn’t hide the anger boiling deep in his gut. Not to people with super senses and knew him as well as the Hales did; not to _family_.

Derek’s jaw tightened but he didn’t look away from Stiles as he nodded. And then he started talking, never looking at his parents, gazing directly at Stiles as the words spilled out of his mouth. “Six years ago, I met an older woman when I was swimming by the pool. She was the substitute lifeguard. She was really beautiful and asked me to meet her. To date her. So I did.” He swallowed hard. “We’d meet in motels and alleys and she never wanted to be seen in public with me, except at the pool when she was working. I thought it was because I was underage, for her, so I didn’t question it. And after. She would ask me things, about the family. How many of us lived here, how many of us might visit. What the house was like.” His lips twisted up in a strange smile and Stiles realized Derek was smiling at himself; he was mocking his past self with that look. “I thought she was just interested in my family, in us, for when we could see each other openly without worrying about the law. I told her the most about Uncle Peter, because of those afternoons I spent at the firm when he’d babysit Willie and me.” For the first time since Derek’d started speaking, Stiles looked away, at Mrs. and Mr. Hale. Mrs. Hales face was completely blank but he could see the way her hands had gripped Mr. Hale’s so tightly her fingers were white. Mr. Hale had –

Stiles had to jerk his eyes back to Derek who was easier to look at. Mr. Hale looked _wrecked_ , a quietly horrified expression on his face that brought out his deep crow’s feet next to his eyes. It reminded him too much of the way his own dad had looked, those last terrible months when the radiation treatments were failing and his mom was getting thinner and sicker every day. They both had figured out where Derek was leading with this.

And listening to Derek tell what he’d done with Kate, how Kate had gone about it, lessened some of his anger. Derek had been a kid, the same age as Stiles was now, when this happened. But the way he told it raised some questions. Ones he wasn’t sure Derek could answer – but maybe his parents could.

“She was wearing a necklace the last time I saw her,” Derek was saying. “I skipped lunch and met her by the pool. She told me I was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and that she’d see me again soon. The necklace was of a wolf.”

Mrs. Hale sucked in a sharp breath and leaned forward, toward her son. “When was that?”

“The day Uncle Peter was attacked,” Derek confessed softly finally looking away from Stiles. “I’m really sorry, Stiles.”

“Oh, _Derek_ ,” Mrs. Hale whispered and pulled away from her husband, swiftly moving so she dropped down to her knees in front of Derek and pulling him into a hug. “This is not your fault, baby,” she told him and he buried his face in her neck. Stiles watched his arms, hands shaking, slide up to hug her back. “She used you to get to us and what happened, _her actions_ , are on her. Her responsibility, not yours, Derek. Don’t ever think you have any blame for what you did.”

Stiles couldn’t watch anymore, especially when Mr. Hale stood up and started heading for Derek. He wrapped his arms around his chest and stared at the floor, his eyes burning until he finally just shut them. The last thing he expected was Mr. Hale’s muscled arms wrapping around him and holding him tightly. “It’s going to be okay,” Mr. Hale said and Stiles blinked away tears at the words, half wanting to be miserable and half wanting to just take the comfort.

But he couldn’t, _he couldn’t_ , because it wasn’t over. The story hadn’t been told yet and it wouldn’t be over until Kate paid for what she had done. So he willfully tuned out the quiet murmur of Mr. Hale’s words in his ear and the feel of his hands cradling the back of Stiles’s neck and squeezing his shoulder. He tuned that out and turned it down, pulling away. “Derek told me her name is Kate Argent. She’s the woman who killed my dad and,” Stiles forced the words out around the jagged lump in his throat because he knew it might help sway the Hales to his side. “Molested Derek. So what are we going to do about it?”

It took a few minutes before Mrs. Hale pulled away from Derek. Stiles avoided looking at his older brother. “ _We_ will be doing nothing about it, Stiles. Alex and I will handle it.”

He felt his pulse pounding in his ears. “She killed my dad,” he repeated, like it might change her answer, make her understand that Kate had to pay.

“And we’ll take care of it, Stiles. This is too dangerous for you to be involved in,” Mrs. Hale said, pulling herself to her feet and running a hand through Derek’s hair. Stiles forced himself not to notice the way Derek’s shoulders were bowed and his eyes were red. “I know you want to be involved in this but you can’t.” Mrs. Hale stared at him and her eyes flared bright red. “This woman has already proven she doesn’t care who gets hurt and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re my son, Stiles, and I protect my family.”

He resisted the urge to spit out something that would really break bridges like ‘I’m not your son’ or ‘you’re not my mom’ and chewed on his lip instead. Finally, he nodded at her once and looked at Derek. “C’mon. I need some help with my history homework and you’re the history nerd in the house.”

Derek blinked at him, swallowed loudly, and croaked out an, “Okay. I’ll help.” He looked up at his mom and gave her a slight smile. She leaned over to kiss his forehead and stepped back, toward Stiles to repeat the action with him. When Derek got close enough, Stiles reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging him up out of the basement and through the house with him to the room they’d once shared and now belonged just to Derek. He shoved open the door and pulled Derek inside with him. Derek stepped close and cupped his arm close to his chest so he didn’t break Stiles’s grip on him. Then hugged him, resting his chin on Stiles’s shoulder.

And Stiles didn’t know what to do with that, with Derek, so he just stood there, letting Derek hug him. “I’m glad you did that,” he finally said and found it was true. Talking to someone about it probably would do him some good and now he’d have his parents there. “Maybe now your parents will stop pestering you to date and Laura will stop trying to set you up on blind dates.”

Stiles got a weak laugh in response to that and Derek finally pulled back. “I’d do anything to take it back,” he said soberly.

“How did she know?” Stiles asked him, rubbing his thumb along the veins in Derek’s wrist. “About werewolves? Did you tell her?”

He watched Derek’s eyebrows go up. “I don’t know. I never told her but she approached me. She had to know before and was using me to get information about the house and our patterns so we’d be easier to kill.”

“Do you think your parents might know?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, pulling Stiles over to the bed and settling them both so they were lying side-by-side. “But Mom wouldn’t tell you now if she did.”

 _Peter will_ , he thought, and that was probably all the answer he needed.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you in the car. I was angry,” Stiles told Derek quietly.

“I deserved it.”

Rather than answering, because he didn’t know if he really disagreed, Stiles turned his head to look at Derek. He’d dropped an arm over his eyes, letting his elbow bend around his nose and brow. “Can I sleep in here tonight? It’ll be just like old times.”

A smile flickered across Derek’s face and he reached out to touch Stiles’s hand with his free one. “Sure. I’d like that.”

***

When Stiles woke up in the morning, he kept his eyes shut, just enjoying the warmth of the bed and the feeling of Derek’s arm wrapped around his waist. When he finally opened his eyes, Derek was staring at him solemnly as he lay on his side facing Stiles. “Morning.” Derek’s voice was scratchy but clear.

“Morning.” Stiles turned his head to the side, away from Derek, and looked at the clock; 6:30am. This meant he probably should be getting up for school soon anyway. And Derek would have to go in for his shift at some point today. But he didn’t particularly want to move and he definitely didn’t want to deal with school.

It sucked Stiles was used to not getting what he wanted. Orphan, after all.

“Are we good?” Derek asked him quietly, his fingers slowly rubbing circles against Stiles’s side, deliberately avoiding any ticklish spots.

When he’d first moved in with the Hales and he shared a room with Derek, he’d woken up like this a lot. Derek had moved over to Stiles’s bed when he’d jerk up in the middle of the night from nightmares or shove his fist in his mouth and try choking his way through the tears a big boy wouldn’t let fall. He’d stay there until morning and they always woke up in the same position; Stiles on his back and Derek on his side, arm over Stiles’s stomach, staring at him. At the time, he figured the look had to do with care or concern.

Now he wondered how much of Derek’s actions then had been wrapped up in guilt.

So he shrugged and sat up, dislodging Derek’s arm as he rolled off the bed. “I’m going to hit the shower and get ready for school. I’ll see you later, Derek,” he said, covering his mouth while he yawned. Something flickered in Derek’s expression but he didn’t say anything, just nodded.

He went through his day mechanically, quiet at breakfast, and even ignoring Scott’s looks and questions about nightmares. He wished he could talk to his best friend about all the crap he’d found out over the past few days but – it wasn’t like he could spill the beans about _werewolves_ and how else was he supposed to make the Kate Argent thing make sense?

Finally, Scott took the hint by second period and just filled the silences when they were together with other things: mostly about the new girl. “I talked to Allison again,” Scott informed him at lunch. “It was mostly about the scene we have to perform in English class but I talked to her!”

Stiles tuned in and tried to at least give his best friend some attention. If there was one thing that wasn’t on the list of qualities, it was definitely shitty best friend. “Cool, dude. Are you reading some sort of play?”

Scott wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, we’re doing Shakespeare.” They were separated in English classes, Scott taking the sophomore level British lit class and Stiles in junior American lit.

“Hey, some of his stuff is pretty funny; dudes get turned into horse’s asses. Literally.”

Scott barked a laugh and shook his head. “Ms. Baima assigned us partners and the play. I got lucky with Allison… not so lucky with the play. Apparently we’re doing The Tempest and she wants me to be the Caliban guy.”

Stiles snorted, remembering when he had to read the play. “Caliban’s like this beast that crushes on a girl who’s shipwrecked on an island with her wizard dad. He’s a drunk and lazy and totally supposed to be the comic relief.”

“Like I said, no luck,” Scott said sourly.

“Well, maybe Allison will find you cute anyway?” he offered tentatively.

“Girls think funny’s cute, right?”

“Why are you asking me?” Stiles laughed in spite of himself. “Because of the way my milkshake brought all the boys to the yard? And by milkshake, I mean totally awesome sense of humor.” Scott cracked a grin at that even Stiles had to admit was pretty adorable and Scott was like his brother. There was no way this Allison chick could stand against that adorableness. “Just keep doing that at her and she’ll cave fast,” he advised. “Anyway, tell me more about her? All I know is she likes pencils, is the prettiest girl to be stranded on an island with, and her perfume smells like fruit. I’m not even sure I’ve heard her last name yet.”

“You have been kinda distracted, Stiles,” Scott pointed out and, because he was an awesome friend, didn’t even make it sound like an accusation. Not that Stiles really felt guilty because on the scale of crap to worry about, Scott’s crush was pretty fucking low compared to the bitch who’d killed his dad trying to get to Peter

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, poking at the pizza on his tray. The food here was usually better looking than this; it wasn’t like Beacon Hills couldn’t afford it. This stuff was just waxy and greasy and completely unappetizing today. “It’s been a bad couple of days.”

“Dude, don’t apologize,” Scott was quick to say. “It’s your dad, okay, I’m not blaming you.”

Stiles smiled at his best friend. “You’re the best, Scotty. And I’m gonna help you get the girl. We’ll make an awesome plan with blueprints and everything to make sure she’s in your clutches.”

He got a snicker out of Scott. “Dude, you have no idea how much you sound like a super villain when you do that.”

“Ha!” He pointed at Scott. “I sound like Peter; he’s the one who taught me.” Stiles paused and frowned. “Wait. Shit. Point taken. Peter totally would make an awesome super villain, wouldn’t he?”

Scott just continued to crack up and shake his head. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“You love me anyway. Wanna make out some? You gotta get some practice before you wow Allison, right?”

“She’s moved around a lot and is a year older than we are,” Scott got out around his chuckles. “And her last name’s Argent, dude.”

The grin froze and Stiles felt like his face had turned to plastic at the name. “Argent, huh? That’s a pretty unique name.” He choked out the words slowly but Scott didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. Stiles should totally aim for a career in Hollywood.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” He looked past Stiles across the lunchroom toward her.

“Okay, dude,” Stiles said, leaning forward, a plan instantly coming to mind. _Allison Argent_. “On Monday we invite her to sit with us. Ask her in English; you can say you want to work on your project today.”

Scott brightened at the idea. “Yeah, awesome. But what if she says no?”

“Dude, she’s not gonna say no. Just tell her you can’t work after school because of lacrosse. It’s got the extra benefit of being true, right?”

And if she did say no… Stiles would think of another way of approaching the girl. It made sense; he could do to Kate the same thing Kate had done to Derek. Get an inside source. Peter would definitely approve of the symmetry, at least, when Stiles told him later.

And that’s when he knew he was doing this. Really doing this, whatever it took. And that meant using Peter and Peter’s resources, experience, and brains. But he knew all of that wasn’t going to come for free, despite the kiss and promise. Chances were _that_ had been some sort of Godfather shit, werewolf version, rather than a show of affection.

“Think so?” Scott gave him a goofy smile and Stiles just nodded easily, giving the realest smile back he could. “We getting together this weekend?”

“Nah, man, I have some stuff I need to do. You know how Peter gets.”

“Do you even _like_ law?”

“I like Harvey Dent,” he shot back instantly and the exchange – one they’d had a lot over the last six years – comforted him.

“You’re definitely more Foggy,” Scott informed him soberly, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Dude, I should at least rate Jennifer Walters!” he protested.

“Nope, forever doomed to bowties as Foggy Nelson.” Scott didn’t bother to stop his smile as they started packing up to head to their next set of classes. “Hey, Stiles?” he asked as they reached the door to the cafeteria.

“Yeah?”

“You know if I invite Allison to sit with us, Lydia and Jackson’ll probably come too. That okay?” And Scott looked so damn tentative with his question Stiles smiled.

“It’s cool. I’m over it. Jackson’s always going to be a dick and I got over Lydia years ago.” He had and it’d been hard. Stiles had talked about it with Peter years ago because, even after Lydia had screwed him over at her party, all the things he’d really liked about her were still there. She was still smarter than half their class _combined_ and destined to win a Nobel Prize for inventing some mathematical formula that changed the entire way humanity looked at the world or curing cancer or AIDS or something. And she was still the prettiest girl in the school. But he’d realized after that disastrous party she had a few faults, the chief one being she was status driven. The second being that she could be vicious. Now, Stiles liked _that_ trait when it wasn’t pointed at him. Unfortunately, being at the bottom of the totem pole… well, it was. Because that’s what happened in high school, people rose to the top by climbing over the corpses of the social rejects they skewered.

He’d said that to Peter once, who’d laughed – the bastard had been popular once, Stiles had seen the basketball trophy and the pictures – and said that was pretty much how it worked in the real world too.

“Hey, before I forget,” Stiles said suddenly, thinking of Peter. “I’m skipping practice this afternoon.”

“Dude, what?”

“I have a family thing,” he said. “You’ll let coach know?”

“Sure, but Finstock’s gonna be pissed.”

“Tape the rant for posterity. The man needs a twitter,” Stiles told Scott, grinning. “Shit Finstock Says.” Scott laughed and walked away toward his class. Stiles briefly debated the wisdom of cutting the rest of the afternoon but the honest truth was he _liked_ school.

Peter would still be there, waiting, later. He was good at being patient when he wanted something and Peter definitely wanted something from Stiles, even if it was just someone he could mold into his legal image. He did, however, make sure to text the older man for a ride (there were benefits for being the boss and they included ditching work to pick up teenagers after school).

Maybe after this was all over he could talk Peter into paying him for the work Stiles had been putting in at Hale & Associates so he could get his own car.

After school, he headed out immediately without bothered to even drop the stuff he didn’t need off in his locker. As promised, Peter was waiting in his Camry right outside the steps. Stiles slipped into the car, tossing his backpack into the seat behind him. “Where to?” Peter asked, his voice pleasant. “Some food before we go home?”

He felt his stomach gurgle in response to Peter’s question and shrugged, ignoring it. “I need to talk to you,” Stiles said. “What’s involved in getting formally adopted as a Hale? I need to be Stilinski-Hale. Or Hale-Stilinski. I don’t particularly care about the order; I just need the name.”

“Technically,” Peter told him, his eyebrows rising even as he pulled out of the high school parking lot. “You’re already adopted according to the state of California. We went through the inspections and paperwork when we decided to take you in permanently. Why do you want to be a Hale?”

 _Ah, it’s going to be one of those conversations; tit for tat_ , he thought and relaxed back in his seat. Peter drove toward the center of town where there were a cluster of restaurants. “I just told you; I need to have the name. How much did they tell you about our conversation last night?” What Mrs. and Mr. Hale told Peter would give Stiles a better indicator of what they intended to do. If anything.

“We keep the basement soundproofed, even against wolves.” Peter tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “One of the changes we made in the renovation. There are cells down there, to hold young wolves when they don’t have full control of themselves on the full moon.”

“So basically nothing,” Stiles guessed, given the way Peter had not answered his question.

“What was the conversation last night about?” Peter asked instantly, taking his eyes away from the road to stare at Stiles.

“Wendy’s,” he said instead of answering and pointed at the closest fast food place he saw. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it in private. I want 2 junior bacon cheeseburgers, a large fry, and a Coke.”

Peter did as Stiles asked, directing the car toward the drive through and ordering food for both of them. “How were classes?”

“ _Really_?” But he suspected the question’s ridiculousness had its intended effect because Stiles grinned and shook his head. “You’re such a weirdo, Peter.”

“You prefer me that way.”

“I haven’t known you any other ways so I guess you’ve got a point.”

“Do you want to?” Peter asked, leaning out the window to scoop up the bags of food being offered.

“It’s my turn,” Stiles pointed out, making grabby hands at the bags. Peter laughed and dropped them into Stiles’s lap. He shoved a hand in and fished around until he could grab a handful of fries. “Would you? Want me any different?” It wasn’t the question he meant to ask, especially with a mouthful of fries, but apparently it was something he wanted to know. _Maybe because of what I’m going to ask Peter to help me do_.

“No. I think you’re perfect just the way you are and your best qualities will only grow stronger as you mature. You’re a fine wine, Stiles, and you’ll get even more valuable as you age.” Peter’s voice was quiet, firm, and it reminded Stiles of the way his mom had talked in the hospital when she’d been telling Stiles all the things he could do to take care of himself and his dad. Like it was inevitable.

It was maybe a little more truth than he was expecting. Good, for what he needed to do, but unexpected. He’d never realized exactly what Peter thought of him, had put that much thought into his future and the plans he had for Stiles. This, in hindsight, was stupid. Peter was one of the most careful and methodical people Stiles had ever met. The older man had taught him the value of a ten-year plan so it was just willful blindness on his own part he’d never thought about how that careful planning might apply to _Stiles_. “No,” he said, answering Peter’s original question. “I need you the way you are right now. You’re the one who can help me do what I have to do and if you were a different person…” He trailed off, jaw clenching. “I wouldn’t be in the car right now.”

Instead of turning the question back on Peter, Stiles concentrated on eating his food as they drove out toward –

He stared at Peter and almost lost his appetite as he realized where they were going.

“You wanted private,” Peter said, like that was a good enough reason. Or any sort of explanation.

They were going to his home. His old home.

His dad hadn’t been stupid. For all that Beacon Hills had been pretty boring crime-wise, he knew anything could happen. So he’d taken precautions and made sure his will was iron-clad. Their house, the home he’d grown up in, was being held in trust until he turned eighteen. He’d asked Mrs. McCall, the administrator of the trust, to sell the house but she’d always given him this look and told him he’d regret it later. So he just avoided this part of town, except for special occasions, and smiled and nodded when Mrs. McCall updated him on the house and the rest of the insurance money being held in trust. It wasn’t much but Dad’s policy had been at least enough to pay off the rest of his mom’s medical bills, the house, and leave a little behind for college. He’d never be living off it but it’d give him a head start when he turned eighteen.

Stiles led the way into the house, swallowing hard like he always did, at the creak in the front door as it swung open. The furniture wasn’t dusty and the house was far neater than it’d ever been when the place was lived in thanks to the housekeeper Mrs. McCall hired to come by every two weeks. He flopped down on the couch, depositing the bags of leftover food on the coffee table in front of him.

“The woman who shot you knew about you and your habits because Derek told her. She manipulated him into a relationship, had him thinking he loved her, had sex with him, and stole every secret about his family she could so she could kill all of you,” he said flatly, summarizing the worst of it. “But he never told her the Hales are werewolves. She knew that going in. Her name is Kate Argent.” He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “A new girl showed up at school that Scott’s after. Her name is Allison Argent.” 

“You’ve gathered a lot of information in a short amount of time,” Peter said quietly, sliding an arm across Stiles’s shoulders. He wanted to pull away because there was just something _wrong_ about plotting to kill someone while cuddling but Peter’s grip was strong, his fingers digging tightly into Stiles’s flesh almost painfully. 

“I had incentive and a fresh perspective.” He gave in and leaned against Peter’s side. “And inside information. I was literally the only person who could have put it together.” He licked his lips, ignoring the tight knot of anger in his stomach. “Or forced Derek into admitting it.”

“He does care about you,” Peter agreed, a note of something that seemed almost like jealousy in his tone. “You wouldn’t be telling me this if there wasn’t a plan.”

“It’s not so much a _plan_ as an idea,” he said quietly. “First, I need to be sure Allison and Kate are connected. But I doubt a name like Argent is pretty common.”

“Argent means silver,” Peter mused, his grip lightening to something less painful and more soothing. “That’s why you want the name Hale. If they are connected, you think they may be coming back to finish the job and you could be bait.”

“For Allison, maybe,” he agreed. “Or Kate, since we already know she likes the underage ones.” He made a quick face. “Even if I don’t look like Derek, I’m pretty sure I could at least pull that off.”

“Because you’re young and innocent of the truth. If no one has come after them before, then the Argents must have assumed Derek either didn’t put it together because I died or never told anyone. They think it’s safe.”

“They think _I’m_ safe,” Stiles corrected Peter. He pulled away from Peter enough so he could meet the older man’s eyes. “I’m going to find Kate Argent. I’m going to figure out how much she knows, how she knew the Hales were werewolves, and who helped her. Then I’m going to make them pay.”

“When I first started working with you after you were fostered, I did it because I was tired of smelling despair and grief all over the house,” Peter told him. “The only time it stopped was when you were concentrating on a task. So I gave you tasks.” Stiles wanted to glare at him for that but Peter had been observant and _right_. He’d needed that in the beginning as much as he’d needed Derek’s hugs and comforting words and promises. “And when you started rising to the challenges I gave you, and the challenges beyond those, I realized what a treasure we’d stumbled upon. You were going to grow up into a fantastic protector of the pack, Stiles. That’s why I’m helping you.” His fingers dug into Stiles’s shoulder again and this time it didn’t feel like fingertips and nails, it felt like _claws_. Peter’s other hand came up to cup Stiles’s chin and, yep, those were claws. But seeing Peter like that didn’t scare him even if it did make his heart race. “You’re one of us, Stiles. You’re _mine_.” His eyes blazed blue. “And together we’re going to make sure the Hale pack is powerful and safe.”

His lips slipped apart but he had nothing to say in response so Stiles just nodded.

After all, he wanted that too. “So where do we start?” he asked and Peter smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns a little werewolf mythology and forms a plan that centers on the girl Scott fell for.

Peter and Stiles had sat there, on his couch, for hours planning. Well, if Stiles was being honest, none of what they’d come up with had the solidity of an actual _plan_ ; it had been more like bouncing ideas off each other. An actual plan could wait until they had more information on the Argents. When the brainstorming had started on the territory of ridiculous – _government conspiracy?_ – they’d descended into a comfortable silence before Stiles had told Peter, gratefully, “thanks.”

“For what?”

“I know you’re doing this to protect your family but you’re also doing it to help me. And my plans are probably different than Mrs. and Mr. Hale; this might put you in a tight spot. You’re doing it anyway.”

Peter had smiled, a tiny little smile, and ran his hand over Stiles’s shaved head. “Does this mean you forgive me for your father?”

“No, not really,” he said honestly and left it there. It wasn’t like Stiles himself even understood his complicated emotions about Peter. Peter had dropped the subject after that and ushered them both home. Which meant Stiles had an entire weekend to fill with researching everything he could find on the Argents, including where they lived, what kind of cars they drove, priors, and known associates courtesy of the benefits of having backdoor access to the police database (and he was seriously never telling Peter that). Peter had suggested a more direct approach – asking Allison when Stiles forced Scott to talk to her but he wasn’t really in the mood to be patient and wait for Monday right now.

He pushed himself away from the shared computer, after making sure to delete his history and wipe everything, and wandered into the kitchen. Laura was making a sandwich, a book and what looked like four or five different articles printed out spread all over the table. She grinned at him.

“You busy? I’m bored.” Stiles dropped down into the chair she’d probably claimed for herself given the arrangement of school crap around the empty space in front of it.

Laura just gave him a tired look and gestured to the table with a tomato slice. “What do you think?”

“I think you need a break. Let’s go see a movie or something.”

Laura chuckled and shook her head. “I’m leading discussion in my Women in Higher Education seminar this week. I really have to get this reading done.”

He gave her the best puppy dog pleading eyes he could. “Please? I need someone to give me the Werewolf 411 and I’ll totally pay for the movie in return.”

She shook her head again, affectionately punching his shoulder. “Why don’t you ask Peter?”

“Because he’s tricky and he wants me to be a werewolf. He’d totally leave something out or exaggerate if he thought it’d bring me around to his way of thinking.”

Laura laughed and dropped down into a chair next to him. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll run you through Intro to Werewolves and then drop you off at the theater if you promise to leave me alone all day tomorrow. I wasn’t kidding about needing to study.”

He tilted his head, considering her offer, and nodded. “I’ll even make you lunch tomorrow so you can keep working,” Stiles offered spontaneously.

Laura’s eyes widened but she held out her hand for Stiles to shake. When he did, she proclaimed, “It’s a deal.” He grinned easily at her and raised her eyebrows. “So, you want Werewolf 101. Can you give me an idea of what you want to know? Myths? Legends? Realities?”

He made a vague gesture in the air. “Any of it, all of it. Seriously, all I know right now is that werewolves exist, Derek can transform into this kind of furry version of himself, your eyes glow, and you have super senses you mostly ignore.” He ticked them each off as he named them. “Oh, and your mom’s totally the alpha wolf.”

“That’s pretty good. How much of that did you figure out yourself and how much did someone tell you?” Stiles held up his hand and waved it side-to-side in a _50-50_ gesture. Laura nodded and reached over to rub his head. “Keep it up, kiddo. Okay. In addition to that, we’re stronger than humans. A lot stronger. It’s like the senses, though, we can choose to use it or not. Younger children have problems with control though.”

“So pick up the toy block to play with and end up crushing it?”

Laura nodded and paused to take another bite of her sandwich. “For the most part, werewolves are people, Stiles. Mom’s told me there are a couple of families, mostly in Europe, that prefer to act more wolf than man but we’re pretty civilized.”

He rolled his eyes at Laura. “Dude, I’ve lived with you guys for six years. I know exactly how civilized you are. That was never anything I was worried about.” He paused and grinned at her. “I did spend some time worried about Derek’s issues with exhibitionism and privacy but I think that’s a Derek-thing not a werewolf-thing.”

She snickered and leaned back onto the back legs of the chair. “What else do you want to know?”

“Instincts? Family dynamics? I mean, your mom’s totally in charge but is that because she’s the alpha or because she’s your mom? Where did the stories come from?” He paused and frowned a little. “And that’s why you guys were temporary placements, weren’t you? You didn’t want kids around on the full moon when things could go weird.” Stiles raised his eyebrows at her. “If the full moon is actually a thing.”

Laura held her hands up against the onslaught. “Slow down!” She chuckled and let the chair drop down with a thud. “Okay, let’s take it one thing at a time.” She chewed on her sandwich contemplatively before nodding. “Before the earth was full of people –“ Stiles opened his mouth to cut her off and she pointed at him. His teeth clicked together when he snapped his jaw shut in response. “Do you want to hear this or not?” Stiles nodded enthusiastically. He could survive a fable to get to the real stuff. “Before the earth was full of people, the gods placed animals on the earth as guardians. There was the bear to protect the den, the fox to lay the traps against the dark, the eagle to pull the sun, the raven to teach and guide the other animals, the spider to weave the future, the bat to pull the moon to the west.” She paused her listing and raised her eyebrows. “And the wolf, to whom was given two different jobs. The wolf would howl each night to call the shy moon out of the east. But Lady Moon asked the wolf a favor because she loved him so and the wolf agreed. The moon gave him a sack to carry around his back and asked him to never spill the contents.”

Stiles cocked his head to the side. “And the sack had something to do with werewolves?”

“Hush,” she said, but Laura’s voice was soft, reverent, like the story was precious. “And listen. The wolf, being a loyal sort, especially to those he loved, took his duties seriously. So he walked day and night, carrying the sack on his back. In beginning, when he started, it was light and the weight was easier to carry. But with each sunrise and sunset, each time Lady Moon answered his call and he chased her through the sky, the weight got heavier. He kept walking, he kept howling, though each night it became harder and harder and he became tired and worn as the sack grew. Finally, one day, with the sun bearing down and no water nearby, the wolf collapsed on the ground under the weight. The tie of the sack around his neck came loose and it spilled open onto the ground the way Lady Moon had asked him never to allow. The wolf wanted to howl in despair but was too tired so he shut his eyes and laid there, feeling the world’s first guilt at failing.”

Stiles took a deep breath, sucked into Laura’s story in spite of himself. More so because he could picture a wolf, with Derek’s blue eyes, trudging along day after day, not sharing the weight he had and carrying the guilt of what he’d done with him as he laid down to die. Even though he _knew_ Laura wasn’t telling this story to make him forgive Derek because Laura didn’t even know he was mad at Derek, he couldn’t help being a little more sympathetic to what Derek had been through. “You’re going to have the best story-time,” he told Laura softly and her sunny smiled warmed him despite the sad images in his head.

“The wolf laid there for three days and three nights, fighting terrible dreams as he slept, until he woke up. It was night and the clever fox and creative spider were there waiting for him. Lady Moon was absent from the sky and fox and spider told the wolf she had been gone the entire time he slept to recover. The wolf picked himself up off the ground and stood, tail down, and the howl he gave was mournful. But it was loud and echoed across the entire land, so loud and so sad that the rest of the animals cried with him, fox and spider most of all. The pain reached out and Lady Moon, hearing the call of the one she loved, finally showed her face again.” Laura paused and looked at the sandwich in her hands as if she’d forgotten it was there, chomping two bites down and nearly finishing her sandwich. Stiles resisted the urge to tap on the table impatiently or ask her to hurry up; Laura was doing _him_ a favor and he knew from long experience that pissing off Laura usually meant she’d back off.

Instead, Stiles worked his curiosity off by standing up and getting Laura glass of juice. She took a quick drink and smiled at him. “Lady Moon traveled the sky until she reached wolf, wanting to comfort him until his mournful song stopped. When she arrived to find wolf and fox and spider and the open bag, Lady Moon began to cry because wolf was injured and had failed her. She picked up the empty sack, still crying, and continued to travel across the sky as wolf continued to howl. The next day, as eagle pulled Lord Sun across the sky, he came upon the howling wolf, absent his usual burden and was angered. ‘Do you know what you have done?’ Lord Sun asked wolf, his voice booming so hot that the land around wolf’s paws turned to ash. ‘Do you know what you have unleashed?’ Wolf’s howls turned to whimpers and he shook his head. ‘No, Lord Sun. I only know I’ve failed my Lady Moon with my weakness.’” Laura stopped to take another drink of juice and it shocked Stiles to see that her hand was shaking. This tale really affected her. Maybe Mrs. Hale had told it to Laura and Derek when they were young. Maybe it was a story their grandparents had told, or even great-grandparents.

Or maybe Laura just had a special affinity for the wolf. She cleared her throat and continued. “Lord Sun continued to burn hot, encircling wolf with fire, for three days and three nights, the same amount of time Lady Moon hid without wolf to call her to the Earth. At the end of the three days and three nights, when he was the brightest in the sky, Lord Sun said to wolf, ‘You have set loose a new thing upon the land. Its name is humanity.’ Wolf buried his head in his paws waiting for the punishment he thought he deserved. ‘They are too young for this land. You were carrying them on your back as they learned and grew into something better. Wolf, you have failed and set them free before they were ready.’ Wolf whimpered at the words and didn’t ask for mercy though he wanted to. ‘Because of your failure, you will be cursed to join them on the days when Lady Moon is the strongest so that you may always feel your guilt about the one who have wrong.’ Wolf howled but it was in acceptance and acknowledgement. He believed the punishment was just and would learn to live as both wolf and man.”

“And that was the first werewolf,” he breathed.

Laura nodded. “That’s my family’s origin story, anyway,” she explained. “Different families have other stories. My grandmother told me she’d met someone who said the first werewolf was actually Fenrir.”

He frowned at the name, immediately thinking of the elf in Dragon Age, but that was _Fenris_ not Fenrir. “Wait, who?”

“Fenrir was the wolf son of Loki in Norse mythology. He’s supposed to help bring the end of the world.” After she’d said it, Stiles felt a little stupid because he _knew_ Peter had definitely made him read about that story.

“Do you think Lady Moon ever forgave the wolf?” he asked quietly.

Laura laughed quietly and reached over to rub his head. “I asked mom the same thing when she told me that story the first time. Mom used to tell me there was nothing to forgive.”

“But if wolf felt guilty –“

Laura held up her hand. “But I think she’s wrong. The wolf felt guilty and even though he tried his best, he wanted to be forgiven.” She picked up the last of her sandwich and popped it into her mouth. “I think she did and that’s why we can shift anytime, rather than just at the moon.”

He smiled a little at her idea and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds right.” He chewed on his lip as he considered whether he wanted to ask his next question. It sort of got to the heart of some of the others he had anyway. “What’s it like being a werewolf?”

“I’ve never been anything _but_ a werewolf,” Laura told him.

Stiles waved his hand in the air in a circular gesture. “I know that; tell me anyway!”

“It’s…” She trailed off, frowning, and Stiles almost felt bad for forcing her to basically try and put her entire existence into words. “It’s information. All the time. Smells, sights, feelings.” She held her hands out in front of him and he watched as claws slowly slid out of her fingers. “It’s all right there, under my skin, ready for me to read it. I’m always spending some of my attention keeping it all suppressed.” She snorted. “Because a lot of the information is stuff I don’t need or want to know.”

“Like what?” he blurted out and immediately regretted it as Laura grinned and leaned close to him, inhaling deeply.

“Like being able to tell you jerked off last night, that you’ve spent time with Peter and he touched you a lot. Derek too. That you’re tired and stressed about something.” She leaned back and her eyes flicked down to his plaid shirt. “The shirt you’re wearing is a cotton-poly blend.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and hoped he wasn’t blushing at Laura’s words. “Okay, so. Basically everything. Right. What else is it like?”

“It’s _family_ ,” Laura said, an extra emphasis on the word. “It’s knowing, absolutely, there are people there.” She smiled, slow and wild. “And it’s being able to run, and howl, and carry the weight Lady Moon gave us because there’s always people running and howling with us to help.”

He swallowed hard and looked away at Laura’s words, reminded of his parents. “It sounds nice,” Stiles said quietly.

“It is,” Laura agreed and leaned over to wrap him in a tight hug. “But I don’t know how much of that is because it’s about family and how much is because of being a werewolf.”

“Speaking as an outsider,” he said carefully. “I’d say with your family, it’s probably about 70-30.”

“You’re not an outsider,” Laura told him, tightening her hug until it was almost painful. “You’re family, Stiles. You’re one of us.” He slipped his arms around her waist, letting his hands come up to grab her shoulders, and squeezed back.

He thought about telling her how it didn’t seem real sometimes, how it never seemed real, not since his mom and dad died, but Stiles thought Laura might take it wrong. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” he said instead, which had the benefit of being true. “So, wait, does this mean there are wolfy instincts?” He tugged himself away from Laura as she started to laugh.

“Yes, there’s _wolfy instincts_.” She rolled her eyes at him. “But they’re muted. It’s really all about protecting the family. Basically the same thing normal humans have, you dork.”

“And what about the full moon?”

“It pulls us. Young kids, betas –“

“Whoa, like a real wolf pack or something?” He interrupted, interested.

“Yes, there’s basically three ranks for werewolves: alphas, who lead a pack or family, betas, which are part of a pack or a family, and omegas, who are lone wolves.” Laura bopped him on the head lightly for interrupting. “Young kids or newly bitten werewolves sometimes have trouble controlling themselves and the change but especially around the full moon. That’s when we’re the strongest. It’s easiest for werewolves in an established pack, especially a large one, to learn control. We use anchors to remind ourselves of what it means to be human and a family is the easiest anchor to use.”

He frowned a little at that explanation. “So, like, you think of your mom and dad?”

Laura pursed her lips and shook her head. “It’s different for everyone, Stiles. For me, it’s more about the feeling I get. I think of how happy and warm family dinners are. You’d have to ask everyone else what their anchors are.”

“Huh, cool.” That sounded marginally less creepy than actually tying your humanity to another person. “Okay, that’s really everything I can think of right now.” He chewed on his bottom lips briefly. “Unless there’s anything you want to tell me.”

“Being a werewolf is amazing but it’s got its dangers too.”

“Like hunters?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, and sometimes other werewolves too. People who want to take territory or take power.” She sounded mystified. “And they’ll kill to do it.”

“I kind of think enough people have died around here,” Stiles told her quietly. “So that’s not something you’ll have to worry about while I’m here. Or Peter. He’s pretty damn invested too.”

“You’re a good kid,” Laura told him and grinned. “Go grab your coat; I’ll drop you off at the mall. I’m sure there’s a movie playing soon.”

Stiles did as he was told, grabbing the brown leather jacket Derek had given him for his last birthday. It wasn’t really cold enough to need it but Laura was a worrywart and he liked making her happy. He tossed it over his shoulder before realizing it probably made him like a douche and then tucked it under his arm instead.

He met Laura at the front door and used the drive into town mostly to _not_ think and just enjoy the quiet. “Thanks,” he told her as they got near the mall. “For today. I know you were busy.”

“Never too busy for you, Stiles.” He chuckled at her and she leaned over to flick his nose as she pulled into the parking lot. “Just make sure you hold up your end of the deal.”

“I solemnly swear. Just tell me at breakfast what you want for lunch and it’s yours.” He grinned at her easily and slid out of the Camaro, heading into the mall. He wandered toward the theater, not bothering to check show times on his phone, and stood outside the box office studying times. He had his choice of _I Am Number Four_ in a half hour or _Gnomeo and Juliet_ in an hour. He snorted and opted for aliens over a kids movie, but only because it started sooner. Stiles turned and decided to head over to the GameStop to check the trade-ins while he waited but paused when he caught sight of someone familiar.

Allison Argent was walking toward the theater slowly, stopping to investigate stores on her way. Stiles smiled and checked himself over. He looked mostly harmless and started walking toward her.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s Allison, right?”

She blinked at him briefly, visibly confused, but smiled at him anyway. “Yes?”

He made himself chuckle and held out a hand to her. “I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski-Hale. My buddy Scott mentioned you; he’s got English with you and apparently loaned you a pencil?”

The wariness at a stranger walking up to her dropped out of her body and her smile grew as she relaxed. He had to admit she was pretty close up and he could see why Scott had fallen so fast. “Hi,” she said and took his hand easily.

“I just saw you over here and thought I’d introduce myself. Scott pretty much thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread,” Allison’s cheeks reddened in a flush at that. “So I figure it’d be nice to get to know you.” He put on his most charming smile and she didn’t run screaming so he took that as a good sign.

“So is this your plan to win me over for your friend?” she asked, her voice going sly and teasing and Stiles laughed in spite of himself, almost hoping she was unrelated to the bitch who’d killed his dad and tried to ruin the Hales.

He said a silent apology to Scott for what he was about to do and shook his head. “Nah. Scott can do his own dirty work. I was going to hit the theater and see _I Am Number Four_ ,” Stiles told her, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Want to come?”

She wrinkled her nose at him cutely before telling him, “I’ve already seen it, before I moved.”

“Ah cool.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. “It was either that or _Gnomeo and Juliet_ ,” he explained.

She licked her lips and smiled. “I haven’t seen that one.”

Stiles took the hint. “Okay, then we’ve got a half hour to kill. You want the grand tour of the Beacon Hills mall?”

She smoothed the skirt of her flowered dress down and laughed. “I have a feeling I’ve seen most of it already but sure. Maybe there’s something only a local would know.”

He held out his arm to her, making the gesture as goofy as possible, and she laughed and slid a hand around Stiles’s elbow. “Not likely though the BBQ joint in the food court is one of the best places to eat in town.” He paused and considered Allison. She looked like one of the nice girls who only ate salads. “Unless you’re a vegetarian, anyway,” he amended.

“Nope.” She tilted her head to look up at him, wry look on her face as her eyes flashed and Stiles could see how Derek – the most handsome man Stiles had ever met in real life – could get trapped. And the expression on her face, combined with the curl in her hair, reminded him more than a little of the picture Derek had snapped of Kate. “Definitely a carnivore.”

Stiles guided through them the mall easily, heading for the food court. They had time for a BBQ sandwich before the movie and it’d save money on concessions. “So where’d you move from?” he asked her.

“Oh god,” she groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’ve lived everywhere. My mom and dad’s business is totally migrant. We moved here from Philadelphia, and Miami before that, and Butte, before _that._ ”

“Where the hell is ‘Butte’?”

“Montana,” Allison told him and laughed. “That’s pretty much what everyone in Miami asked too, if you were wondering.”

He chuckled and steered them across the aisle and away from Bath and Body Works and its overpowering mix of smells. “Sounds both awesome and horrible.”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” Stiles said slowly. “I’ve never lived anywhere but here so I think it’d be awesome to travel some.” He hesitated slowly and gave Allison a sheepish smile. “But I bet all the moving sucks for getting good grades –“ A guess he made based on his own experiences as the son of a Sheriff who really cared about the foster care system and being _in_ the foster care system, albeit only for a week before he was placed with the Hales. “And for making friends.”

She looked down but he caught a smile out of the corner of his eye as she reached up with his free hand and chewed on the nail of her thumb. “I got used to it,” she confessed.

“Yeah,” he agreed and decided this would be the best time to bait the hook. “I get that. You get used to changes quickly when they’re the crappy ones.” Allison looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. “My mom died when I was eight. My dad was shot and killed when he interrupted a burglary when I was ten.”

She sucked in a deep breath and her eyes went wide, stopping her motion in the middle of the aisle. A mother, two kids trailing her on leashes, glared at the both of them as she maneuvered around them. “I’m so sorry, Stiles.”

“Yeah, it was a long time ago.” He shrugged but made sure to at least sound sad. “But I got placed with this amazing family, the Hales, and they’ve really been there for me. Derek, he’s basically my older brother, especially.” He watched her face closely, waiting for any sign of recognition at the names, but she showed nothing but sympathy and he started walking them again. “So that’s my family!” Stiles kept his tone cheerful and smiled crookedly at her. “What about yours?”

“It’s just me and my mom and dad mostly.” She reached up to brush her curly hair behind her ears. “But my Aunt Kate comes to visit a lot and she’s awesome. She’s only eleven years older than me so it’s like having an older sister.”

Even though his heart was pounding at the name Kate, Stiles did his best to act like nothing was wrong. It wasn’t _positive_ , though he doubted there were as many ‘Kate Argents’ who had family with reason to be in Beacon Hills. If Derek hadn’t told Kate he was a werewolf, she had to know somehow. Maybe killing werewolves was a family business.

It was just too bad Allison was likely caught up in it; she seemed nice.

“That’s cool. I always wanted a sibling when I was a kid.” He chuckled, a little genuine amusement showing through. “Then I ended up with three of them and, well, that’s a wish I’ve regretted ever since. It’s more fun when they go away and come back, I bet.”

Allison let go of his arm as they reached the food court and grinned, pointing toward the BBQ place. Only two people were standing in line but the tables were mostly full of people eating – and almost all of the food was from there. “I guess you weren’t kidding they were good.”

“Better than movie popcorn anyway." 

She grinned at him over her shoulder and headed for the line. He trotted after her and sorted through different conversational gambits. Stiles wanted to keep her talking and if it was about her family, so much the better. “So is this a date?” Allison asked, her smile going somewhere between shy and coy.

For an instant, he considered saying a flat-out yes. It would be so – _fitting_ – to do to the Argents what Kate did to Derek. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t, not without knowing for sure. And he _wouldn’t_ do that to Scott, who was so damn smitten. “It’s a welcome and an introduction,” he said finally. “So I guess it’s up to you.” He laughed softly and shook his head. “Though my buddy’ll be pissed I got there first if it is.”

“If he was interested, he should have asked me out,” she pointed out but her voice was full of laughter.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed and shrugged. “Like I said, it’s up to you. I just wanted to meet the girl who captured Scott’s heart so quickly.” Stiles nodded toward the menu on display. “This’ll be my treat. You can get the movie tickets,” Stiles suggested and she laughed and nodded.

He could see how Derek would have fallen for Kate’s tricks. That didn’t mean Stiles would.

“I’m glad I met you,” Allison told him and he forced a grin onto his face.

“Same here. I think we’re going to get along great.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Laura tells Stiles is very loosely based on an Ute creation myth in which the Wolf figure gathers a bundles of branches from a particular bush and collects them together in a sack. Coyote was curious what Wolf was doing and untied the sack and people rushed out, startling Coyote who runs away. I probably pulled from other sources as well, just by osmosis, but the Ute's story is the only one I can tell I need to acknowledge. Obviously, Fenrir makes an appearance from Nordic mythology as well. Be prepared for more mythology and creation exploration in future chapters.


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